


One Less Burden

by madelinek



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, there's a little sex but not that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinek/pseuds/madelinek
Summary: After a night together, Yennefer learns that Geralt is the son of a sorceress. Many months later, she and Visenna cross paths. Yennefer wants answers.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106
Collections: Best Geralt





	One Less Burden

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some random thing that's been in my drafts for months. It's not really set in any particular universe, although it leans more towards the books in my mind. However, if you're into the TV series it could honestly work in that universe, too.

Yennefer had not given up her search on a cure for infertility, only because she had reason to believe there was one.

Not all sorceresses lost the ability to reproduce after their transformations. It was rumored throughout the Continent that it was the school of Aretuza in particular that produced barren sorceresses. Whether that was true, Yennefer did not know. It appeared to be random – a simple matter of how one's body handles the intense transformation. Some reproductive organs atrophy, others don't. 

Regardless of which school they came from, Yennefer knew there were sorceresses who had become pregnant. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Geralt of Rivia was the product of one of them. Fate did always have a funny way of toying with her.

Geralt and Yennefer rarely spoke of their pasts to one another, and when they chose to, specifics were glossed over. Names, faces – they were irrelevant. Especially when they both knew their childhoods were one and the same. 

Until one night when the room was warm, light from the candles soft and flickering. Sweat cooled on their skin, though their bodies were still warm with wine and satisfaction of a reunion that had lasted hours. Yennefer listened to Geralt’s heartbeat pumping slowly as he carded his fingers through her hair, smoothing out tangles he had created moments earlier. The alcohol and pleasure loosened her limbs, allowing her to burrow further into his side without her normal reservations. The hand in her hair slid down her spine, ending its path at her hip and trying to pull her closer as if that were possible. He sighed contentedly. Yennefer smiled into his skin.

Following physical intimacy, she was always particularly sensitive to others’ thoughts. With some lovers, their thoughts were an annoyance and a burden; with Geralt, she was curious, hungry to know what lay behind his yellow eyes. He interested Yennefer beyond any man she'd ever met. Like Yennefer, Geralt’s thoughts often wandered to a dark and lonely place, though it was clear he tried to smother them with better things if he suspected she could hear. That night, though, his thoughts were muddled. Yennefer only caught the tail-end of them, slipping away from her like oil in water.

“What are you thinking?” She asked, pressing her fingers to his lips so she could feel his grin beneath them at her words. He nipped her lightly so she would pull back and allow him to speak.

“Why ask? I know you can hear."

"Tonight, it's not so clear."

Suddenly, a vivid image of Geralt’s white hair between her thighs sprung forth, Yennefer clinging to his shoulders. Her cries and begging were laden with such obscenities it brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Better?”

Geralt shifted so one of his legs slotted between both of hers, smirking at the dampness he found there. Yennefer squirmed, the friction too delicious to veil her want. The reaction was enough for Geralt to dislodge her from his shoulder, flipping their positions so he could kiss down the line of her neck. The pressure his weight provided at this new angle pulling a groan from her. He chuckled, satisfied with the turn of events, and continued his open-mouthed kisses down her body. His lips scorched her skin.

It was when he reverently kissed down her stomach that an errant thought got away from Geralt. He scrambled to cover it up, to think up a variety of toe-curling things, but it was too late. He knew she'd heard when she froze as though someone had thrown snow into the bed with them.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt apologized, his voice strained. Yennefer said nothing, just pushed his shoulders, signaling him to keep going.

Geralt brought her to orgasm twice and appeared to be trying for a third when Yennefer whined, dragging his face back up to hers.

“I want you,” she murmured against his lips. He obliged.

Their lovemaking was always intense, always emotionally charged in a way that neither of them fully understood.

When it was over, they were back where they started, Yennefer nuzzled against Geralt’s side. His thoughts were self-deprecating, and Yennefer couldn’t help but address them.

“It’s alright,” she assured him, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. His fingers flexed around hers.

“I know you don’t like to think of it,” Geralt grumbled softly. “I don’t like to make you think of it.”

"You can't control your thoughts."

He hummed in response, foregoing words as he so liked to do. Yennefer knew the question was coming before he asked it.

"Why does it bother you?” Geralt’s tone was not judgmental, only honest in its curiosity. "Why do you want a child so badly?"

“It’s not about having a child,” Yennefer explained, sighing. “It’s about having a choice.”

Geralt’s thoughts were not hidden from her this time. She couldn't keep the shock from her tone.

“Your mother was a sorceress?”

He hummed a confirmation. Yennefer stroked the muscles along his side, fingers dragging along scar tissue, considering and cherishing this new bit of information she'd learned about him. She supposed she wasn't entirely surprised. Magic pulsed strongly in his veins. Each time she drew from it, she wondered whether it was that way for every witcher. She'd long had a suspicion that he was more powerful than his brethren.

“Did she…” Yennefer shook her head, acknowledging it was a question that was both too invasive and one he likely did not know the answer to. Geralt, astute as ever, responded anyway.

“Wish she was barren?” He asked for her. “Well, she left me at Kaer Morhen. That seems answer enough to me.”

Yennefer sat up to look at Geralt. His golden eyes stared into hers. She brushed back his hair, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Look what you've become without her," Yennefer said between another kiss. "People across the Continent know your name. The famous White Wolf."

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“That’s more Dandelion's doing than mine.”

“The nickname, perhaps. But many villages I’ve passed through know of the white-haired witcher because of what he's done for them, not because of the bard's outlandish stories.”

“For what I killed for them, you mean.”

Yennefer flopped back down beside him.

“You certainly know how to take a compliment, don’t you? I suppose I can thank your mother for that.” Geralt turned to his side, studying her. “Do you think I’ve met her?”

“Why would you?” Geralt asked, confused.

“I’ve met a great many sorcerers and sorceresses over the years. I didn’t learn _all_ of their names."

Geralt sighed. "Visenna. Her name is Visenna. Or was. I don't even know if she's still alive."

Yennefer could see that he wished to change the subject, so she did. The next morning, he was gone, as had become their custom. She didn't think of Visenna again for quite some time.

* * *

Yennefer had been roaming the Continent on her own for months, the quest to cure her shriveled womb in limbo as she focused on survival once she'd abandoned her post at court. She moved from village to village, making coin from the needs of desperate townspeople.

Yennefer avoided thinking about how her lifestyle had become so similar to a witcher's.

Normally, Yennefer was adept at fixing whatever problem villagers dropped in her lap. However, when a young girl ran into Yennefer's lodgings crying about her mother bleeding out after giving birth, dread pooled in the sorceress's gut. There were a great many things she could achieve with her magic, but when it came to healing, she'd never been as proficient. By the sounds of it, the woman didn't have much life left in her as it was. She broke this news as gently as she could to the child.

"There's a woman in the village over!" The little girl cried, her grubby fingers clinging to Yennefer's skirts in unrestrained despair. "They say she can heal near anything! Please, miss! I won't get there fast enough, but you - you can get there in a second, can't you? You're a witch! You can get anywhere!"

Something about the look in the girl's eyes and her dirty, tear-streaked cheeks, made Yennefer acquiesce. When she stepped from the portal at the outskirts of the next village, a red-haired woman by the edge of the road set down her basket of herbs. Yennefer could smell the woman's magic, feel it pulsing in the air around her.

"Are you the town's sorceress?"

The woman nodded.

"Come with me."

Yennefer brought the unknown sorceress to the girl's bleeding mother, whose face was white as a sheet. She was certain there would be no way to bring her back from the brink, but after the red-haired woman worked for two hours, the mother's skin regained a healthy pallor. She would live.

Throughout the procedure, Yennefer couldn't shake the feeling she'd met this woman before. She couldn't remember when or how, but there was a familiarity about her features tugging at Yennefer's mind. When the sorceress bent down to give the young girl instructions on how to maintain her mother's recovery, Yennefer observed the slope of her nose. The shape of her eyes.

Suddenly, she knew.

A strange brew of curiosity and jealousy simmered behind Yennefer's sternum. The curiosity of how this woman had borne a child despite her obvious transformation, jealousy at how it was possible. The anger, rattling around behind her ribs and crawling its way up her throat, for a man who'd become so close to her heart, willing or not she was to admit it.

Yennefer waited until the woman finished her duties, until after they both exited the house, meager payment from the young girl weighing down their coin purses.

"Visenna."

The older sorceress - while adorned with ageless beauty, Yennefer knew the woman had seen far more years than she - turned to look at her.

"How do you know my name?"

Yennefer bit down on her lip, calling upon Tissaia's teachings from so long ago to calm her emotions. "I thought it was you. I can see the resemblance."

At the word resemblance, Visenna's spine stiffened. Yennefer couldn't hold back the vengeful smirk that rose upon her lips.

"You had a child once."

Visenna nodded, the movement so slight Yennefer barely caught it in the poor lighting. "Once."

A small laugh escaped from Yennefer, a cruel and twisted sound. "You had the ability so few of our kind retain after our transformation. Instead of cherishing it, you left him to die."

Visenna's lips pursed. "I left him where I knew he would be taken care of. He didn't die, as you're clearly aware."

"Nearly all the boys die in those trials. I'm sure you knew that when you left him."

"None of those boys are the sons of sorceresses."

"Is that what you said to convince yourself?"

Visenna remained silent, and again Yennefer was reminded of the man in question.

"You don't seem relieved to learn your only son is alive and breathing," said Yennefer scornfully. She hoped it would get some reaction out of the woman, but Visenna studied her so intently that Yennefer found herself challenged to hold her gaze.

"You know my son well," Visenna guessed, although there wasn't much question in her tone. At Yennefer's glare, Visenna laughed. "My, you love him, don't you? What an epic tale that must be, an affair between a sorceress and a witcher."

A tense silence lingered between them before Yennefer spoke again.

"Why?"

It was the only answer Yennefer wanted. She wanted to know why this woman would give up the gift of a child, the choice of a different path besides the long and lonely road their kind lived. She wanted to know the answer for Geralt. She wanted to know the answer despite selfishly thanking the woman for her choice, because if she hadn't made it, Yennefer would have never met him.

"My decisions are of no concern to you, girl."

"They are to him." At this, Visenna turned to look up at the sky. It dawned on Yennefer then. "You knew he was alive."

Visenna chuckled. "It's a rare feat to enter an inn without hearing the stories about Geralt of Rivia these days. Or the White Wolf, as the bards so like to call him."

"Yes, he succeeded despite your abandonment. Though it's been far from easy. You condemned him to a life of mistreatment."

"Is life easy for any of us?" asked Visenna. Her lip curled. "You want a child. I can hear it seeping from your thoughts. Even if you found a cure for your ailment, witchers are sterile."

Yennefer had many times thought of her own child, but never who would father it. At Visenna's words, Yennefer conjured a sudden image of what a child with Geralt might look like. She closed her eyes to keep the burning sensation at bay. When she opened them, her anger was once again directed at the woman in front of her.

"Yet another choice robbed of him by you."

"Destiny has a plan for us all," Visenna muttered, as though she was speaking to herself rather than to Yennefer. She looked away from the stars, holding up her hands and opening a portal. Then, she turned to peer at Yennefer once more. "Will you tell him of our encounter?"

"What good would it do?" Yennefer sneered. "He's suffered enough."

"I don't believe it was all suffering and pain, as you say." Visenna's voice remained neutral despite Yennefer's venom. "After all, he met you. A powerful sorceress, ready to defend him with her life. You love him, and he, you. Perhaps that is _your_ destiny."

Visenna stepped into the portal and disappeared, her last words ringing in Yennefer's ears.

* * *

The next time Yennefer crossed Geralt on the Path, the urge to tell him about her meeting with his mother was strong. However, as she watched his eyes flutter closed when exhaustion finally overtook him, Yennefer found she couldn't bring herself to say anything.

Geralt had enough troubles on his mind. She would bear this one burden for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been curious about Visenna being able to have children while other sorceresses can't. Many twitter discussions have led me to believe it's just Aretuza that sterilizes their sorceresses. I've always thought Sapkowski missed an opportunity by not putting Yennefer and Visenna in the same room for just a little while.


End file.
